From the Ashes
by Karen1121
Summary: Fukase wakes to find himself in a burning building, possessing no memory of who he is or where he came from. Only with the help of some newfound friends can he discover his true purpose.


**A Quick Explanation:**

 **All of my writing is heavily influenced by my headcanons, and this work is no exception. Therefore, I think a brief explanation is necessary.**

 **I headcanon Fukase to be the imaginary friend of Oliver, and that Fukase is a ragdoll that was brought to life by magic in a fire that killed Oliver's parents. I also headcanon that Yohioloid (Hio) is Oliver from the future, who returned to unsuccessfully try and save his parents. He then took Oliver and his sister Mayu in to treat them like his little brother and sister. Yohioloid is the only adult who can actually see Fukase because Fukase is his imaginary friend; Fukase is like a ghost to any other adult but is visible to other children.**

 **Okay, that should be all you need to know to understand what's going on. I hope you enjoy~**

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The door slammed shut and echoed through the now empty room. Flames slowly poured into the room, lapping over the belongings left behind. Books, toys, clothing, and shreds of discarded homework blackened in the sizzling heat.

Even the favorite doll, forgotten in a moment, was left to burn on the ground before the door.

But as the flames reached the limp ragdoll and began to tear into its fibers, a different transformation took place.

In an instant, the doll grew several times its original size. The yarn sewn to its head thinned into hair, and its limbs grew longer, gaining fingers and toes and becoming flesh. The paper clothes it had worn stretched into cloth and adjusted to the doll's new height. With a mischievous grin, the doll's mismatched buttons and stitches twisted into a face. The flames continued to work their destruction, but the doll's magic silently defied them. Even the accessories the doll had been given sprang to life with it.

With a gasp, the doll sat up and opened his eyes. He blinked in the heat, billowing smoke obscuring his vision. He looked around madly, lost and confused. Nothing looked familiar.

 _Where am I?_ his mind raced. The roaring fire frightened him and scattered his thoughts like a raging, glowing beast. _Who am I?_

As his eyes explored the room, he looked down and realized his arm was still on fire. Startled, he shook his arm violently until the flames dissipated.

 _Well, I can't stay here!_ He nimbly leapt to his feet but nearly lost his balance and flailed wildly. Steadying himself, he looked down and noticed he was wearing high-heeled boots. _That's definitely not going to help,_ he grumbled.

A strange thumping sound behind him caught his ears, and he turned around. The cane that had been left beside him was standing at attention, lightly hopping on its one, clawed foot. He grinned and took hold of it, swinging it a few times for good measure. It fit perfectly in his hand.

As he prepared to leave, he made one last glance around the room, which was now engulfed in towering flames. A movement by his feet stopped him, and he bent down. A small, white doll was trying to get his attention, its floppy limbs flailing jerkily.

"Who are you?" he asked, grinning. He blinked and touched his throat, startled by the sound of his own voice. The little doll gestured frantically but made no sound. "Right, right—leave now, introductions later!" he agreed. Picking up the little creature, he tucked it carefully under his hat.

With a grating rumble, the ceiling started to collapse. He turned, frozen in fear. Part of the ceiling crashed to the ground and blocked the door. The air thickened with the dust of the ceiling and the growing smoke.

"Well," he hesitated, "guess we'll have to go with Plan B!"

Searching around, he located a window across the room. He picked up a chair and hurled it through the window, wincing at the splintering crash.

The little doll peeked out from under the hat and shuddered. It quickly hid again, too scared to watch. The hat, too, screwed its eyes shut.

The boy glanced out the window; it was on the second story. The ground stretched out far below. _No time to back out now,_ he resolved. Gathering himself, he gripped his hat and cane tight and sprinted out the window, smoke chasing close behind.

With a rather uncoordinated _thud_ , he landed, sprawled on his back, in a scratchy bush. Leaves scattered from the impact in a small flurry. Stunned, the boy lay staring at the sky and watched the trailing smoke lace through the air like spindly fingers.

As he regained his senses, he groaned and wiggled his fingers and toes. _Well, at least everything still works,_ he chuckled to himself. His left arm caught his eye; he drew it in front of his face in surprise. It was badly burned and disfigured from the fire. He'd hardly felt it.

Before he could examine it further, he heard several indistinct shouts from the other side of the house. A high-pitched wail split the air, and flashing blue and red lights dazzled his eyes in the distance.

The noises frightened him; everything was so new and loud. He quickly scrambled to his feet and grabbed his hat and cane. He found the small doll lying dazed in the bush beside him and gently put it back under his hat.

Scanning his new surroundings quickly, his eyes located the edge of a nearby forest. Hurriedly, he sprinted for the tree line without so much as a glance back at the house and disappeared into the shadows.

As he ran, sharp branches lashed out at him and sliced his arms, and the closing canopy of trees darkened the leaf-strewn path ahead of him. He disregarded the stinging branches and kept running blindly, too frazzled to stop and consider where he was going.

Cruelly, a gnarled tree root caught his foot. He rocketed to the ground with a startled yelp and, once again, found himself sprawled on the ground.

Spitting out dirt, he slowly pushed himself to his knees and sat up. The forest was quiet. Dappled sunlight spilled through the trees with no sign of smoke in sight. The trees' limbs swayed gently in the wind, creating their own whispery music. Now that he had stopped panicking, the boy found the serene hush comforting.

Timidly, the little doll peeked its head out from under the boy's hat. It slid down his head and into his lap, and he chuckled. "You okay there, little guy?" he asked.

It spun in a clumsy circle, expressing its dizziness.

"Sorry about that. Bit of a bumpy ride, huh?"

The little doll nodded vigorously. The boy felt the hat nod on his head, and he placed it on the ground in front of him. It grinned and stuck its tongue out at him. He returned the favor.

"What am I supposed to call you guys?" he mused aloud. They looked up at him expectantly. "Can any of you talk?"

The doll and the hat looked at each other and shook their heads.

"That's alright," he grinned, "I'll just do the talking for the three of us!"

Thinking, he patted the hat absent-mindedly and watched the little doll scramble on top of it. The top of the hat was slightly fuzzy, as though it were covered in small hairs. It was a very amusing texture, and he kept petting the hat, delighted. "Hmm," he mused, "I'm gonna call you Fuzzball."

The hat stuck its tongue out in disgust, but the boy only laughed. "Too bad! Unless you've got a better one?"

Fuzzball sighed resignedly.

The little doll jumped up and down impatiently. The boy snapped his fingers happily. "I know—I'll call you Point since you make so many funny gestures."

Point smiled, clapping its flappy arms.

The boy's cane nudged him on the shoulder, and he turned. Fuzzball winked playfully, and the cane nudged him again. "Are you doing that?" he asked Fuzzball curiously.

The hat grinned in affirmation. Impressed, the boy laughed and watched the cane hop about. "That's so cool!"

Point tugged on the boy's sleeve and gestured at him questioningly. "Me?" the boy asked. "Huh, I guess I hadn't thought of what to call myself." He paused. "Hmm… I guess something'll come to me eventually."

He looked around again, taking in the view. It was a pleasant day, bright and cloudless. Small wisps of smoke were slowly becoming visible through the trees, however. Seeing the smoke reminded him of his arm, and he examined it again. The burns had already scarred over, giving it a rough and slightly swollen texture. He ran his fingers over his arm curiously, furrowing his brow.

Point climbed in his lap, making a pained face and pointing at the boy.

"Oh, does it hurt?" he asked. "No, it just looks funny."

He examined the rest of his appearance, from his shoes to his bow tie to his hair. He tried retying the loosened bow tie, but it ended up looking more disheveled than before. Fuzzball chuckled in amusement. "Hey, let's see you do better," he shot back. "You don't even have hands."

Suddenly, the scarf on his back slapped him lightly on the cheek. He blinked, surprised. "Was that you again?" he asked, squinting at Fuzzball. The hat chuckled again and stuck its tongue out.

"You're full of surprises," he smirked.

He watched the smoke trail through the sky, thickening. The forest was growing darker. The boy lay down on the dirt, staring in wonder. The forest's still, thickening atmosphere was enchanting.

After a few moments, he yawned sleepily. It had been quite an eventful day. "Guess I'll just rest my eyes for a bit." Point curled up in his lap, and he closed his eyes contentedly.

* * *

A drop splattered on the boy's cheek, and he stirred irritably. Another drop hit his nose, and he opened his eyes. Through the trees, he could see a light drizzle falling and twinkling like silver threads. Point took refuge under Fuzzball, waking the grouchy hat.

The boy stood, bracing himself with his cane to avoid slipping in the mud. "C'mon guys," he told his new friends, "let's find better shelter." He put Fuzzball on his head and adjusted the hat in a slightly crooked fashion. Point clung to the hat and climbed back underneath it as the boy began walking.

After attempting—and quickly failing—to retrace his steps and wandering in circles for a few miles, he finally emerged from the forest, dripping wet. He surveyed the unfamiliar territory; the burning house from before was nowhere in sight. Rows of tightly-packed buildings splayed out before him. The dull gray concrete and brightly-colored signs offended his eyes, so different from the lush greens and pale blues of the forest and sky before.

The rain was beginning to strengthen, forming large, portal-like puddles in the streets and giving the atmosphere a hazy look.

With a determined nod, the boy stepped out and crossed the first, quiet street. He meandered through the maze of buildings, hoping to find something a bit more familiar… perhaps a kind face?

As he walked, he scanned the streets for people. No one seemed to want to linger in the rain, and the few people he saw quickly pushed past him.

"E-excuse m—" he started, trying to get a woman's attention. Without so much as a glance, she walked briskly by. He frowned and stuck his tongue out after her.

He tried walking up to another man who was exiting a store. "Hello?" Again, the man ignored him, taking a small, metal device out of his pocket as he walked.

"What, am I invisible?!" the boy shouted bitterly, throwing his hands up. "Why is everyone so rude?"

He turned and saw a little girl and her mother across the street. The girl stared at him, trembling slightly. "No, wait—" he sputtered, running after her, "I didn't mean to startle you—" She turned away in terror and buried her face in her mother's sleeve. The woman looked up, puzzled, but didn't notice him. They soon walked away, the girl running quickly and tugging her mother's sleeve.

He stopped in his tracks, watching them leave. "Was it something I said?"

No reply came. Soon, he found himself alone in the rain again. Frustrated, he kicked the ground and kept walking. "Maybe we can just find some abandoned place to stay today," he grumbled to his hat.

"Hey," called a voice from behind him. He turned around, finding a small boy a few paces away. His dark coat seemed to swallow him, but it must have helped keep the damp out. Part of his face was bandaged, concealing one of his eyes. "Are you lost?" the smaller boy asked.

"N-no," the first boy hesitated, "Not lost. Just looking for somewhere to stay, I guess."

The smaller boy smiled. "Want to stay with me for now? The storm's getting worse."

"Really?" he grinned. "Thank you."

The smaller boy gestured to follow him, and the other complied happily. "Oh," he said as they walked, "I'm Oliver. What's your name?"

The boy swallowed. "Well—"

"Oliver!" a voice shouted behind them. Two figures ran up, a tall man in a gray coat and a girl with long, flowing blonde hair that was rainbow-colored at the tips. "Where have you been?" the man asked. "We've been searching all over. It's time to go home."

Oliver shuffled his feet sheepishly. "Sorry, I got distracted. But I met a new friend! Can he come home with us today? He doesn't have a place to stay for the rain."

The two looked over at the first boy, and he smiled shyly. The girl smiled politely. A strange look flickered across the tall man's face, but he quickly replied, "Of course. Come on—I'm getting wet!"

* * *

The door creaked open, and the four rushed out of the now thrashing rain. Soaked through, they wrung out their dripping clothes and coats. The boy laughed as they tried somewhat successfully to dry off. "That was exciting!"

Oliver grinned, but the girl sighed instead. "This is my favorite dress!"

"Oh, come on, Mayu," Oliver rolled his eye, "you have plenty of dresses. A little rain won't hurt!"

Mayu pushed Oliver away playfully, but the other boy was too busy taking in his new surroundings to notice their scuffle. The apartment was small and sparsely furnished, but it felt like home. A few pictures hung on the walls, and it seemed the children had left their studies unfinished on the kitchen table for it was over-spilling with loose papers and notebooks. The room smelled faintly of vanilla.

"You two should get back to your work," the man, who had introduced himself as Hio, reminded them as he hung up his coat.

Oliver and Mayu groaned, but they soon obeyed and sat down at the table. The boy turned to follow them, but Hio caught him before he could do so. "Do you mind if I talk to you for a second?" he asked quietly. Puzzled, the boy nodded.

Hio led him to one of the few connected rooms and closed the door behind them softly. The room was also very small, but it housed a sloppily-made bed, a few dressers and shelves, a desk with lots of electronics piled on it, and a swivel chair. Hio sat down on the bed, and the boy plopped down on the floor. Hio smirked and moved to the floor, as well, glancing at the empty chair.

"Can you keep a secret?" Hio asked suddenly.

The boy paused. "A secret?"

"Yeah. It's something you're not supposed to tell anyone."

"I… guess so."

Hio took a deep breath. "This is going to sound really crazy," he began, "but I've already met you before."

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"I know, I know," Hio said quickly. He sighed and looked absently at the ceiling. "Look," he said finally, facing the boy. "I'm going to be honest with you. I'm from the future. I've seen all this before."

"What?"

"I'm from the future," he repeated.

"How far in the future?"

"Eleven years."

The boy leaned back, trying to process what he'd heard. He eyed Hio skeptically, who waited. "Okay, then," he grinned. "Prove it."

Hio thought for a second. "I know that you keep your little buddy Point under your hat. And I know your name, even though you haven't told me yet."

The boy quickly stole a glance at his hat. "But I don't have a name," he said sheepishly, staring at his feet.

"What? Yes, you do," Hio frowned. "It's Fukase."

The boy looked up. "Fukase?"

Hio nodded, a bit surprised.

"I like that!" the boy grinned, rolling the sounds off his tongue. "Fukase."

He then paused for a moment, scratching his head. "Why are you telling me this?"

Hio drew another deep breath, looking at his feet. "Because I have some not-so-great news."

Fukase unconsciously reached for his cane, twisting it in his hands.

"Oliver said he saw you being ignored today," Hio continued.

A dark look clouded Fukase's face. "They wouldn't even look at me," he recalled bitterly.

"Ah," Hio winced sympathetically, "that's what I wanted to tell you about. They couldn't see you."

"What?"

Hio hesitated again, and Fukase glared impatiently. "Fukase, the truth is…" he said finally, "you're not real. You're imaginary."

With a sharp _whack_ , Fukase's cane socked Hio on the head. "Did that feel imaginary to you?!" Fukase growled, posing to strike him again.

Hio fell back in pain. "No, wait—" he sputtered, massaging his head. "Listen, I can see and feel you just fine. So can kids. But you're invisible to other adults."

"That's ridiculous," Fukase spat.

"I can prove it," Hio said quickly. He jumped up and sprinted across the room, grabbing a small, circular device from the desk. As he sat back down, he explained, "This is a mirror. It reflects whatever's facing it."

"So?" Fukase grunted, crossing his arms.

"So, people use it to see themselves so they know what they look like." Hio angled it so that Fukase could see Hio and a slanted view of the messy room in the mirror. "See?"

Fukase's eyes widened slightly for a moment, intrigued, but he quickly huffed. "I still don't see what this has to do with anything."

"Look," Hio said, angling the mirror to face Fukase. All that was visible was the door behind him.

Fukase squinted. "I don't see anything."

"Exactly," Hio replied. "You don't have a reflection."

"Wait, lemme see that again," Fukase said, grabbing the mirror. He tilted it up, down, and sideways, even resorting to shaking it. "This doesn't…." His hands shook slightly.

Hio watched him without a word.

Fukase sighed, staring at the mirror. He turned it toward Hio and back at himself. "Is this a trick?" he growled.

Hio shook his head. "I have other mirrors if you don't believe me."

Fukase huffed again. He didn't want to believe it, but Hio was very convincing. And he couldn't dispute the mirror's stubborn refusal to acknowledge his presence. He set the mirror down, defeated. "So, I'm invisible to adults…" he said quietly. "But why was that little girl so scared of me?"

Hio looked away.

"What?" Fukase asked urgently.

"Do you… do you know what you look like?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sure, I guess. Red hair, white clothes, weird hat—"

"But do you know what your face looks like?" Hio pressed.

Fukase shifted uncomfortably. "N-no…"

Hio stood up again, this time more slowly. Fukase watched as he walked over to the bed and reached under it, fumbling around until he pulled out a small box. The box looked old and worn, secured with a small lock. Hio took out a key from the locket he wore around his neck and unlocked the box. He took out a piece of paper and put the box back under the bed.

Sitting down, he handed the paper to Fukase. "It isn't much, but it's all I have," he apologized.

Fukase examined the paper. It was a portrait, drawn neatly in colored pencil. "Is this… me?" he breathed.

Hio nodded. "Mayu drew it for you. I mean—she will. In the future."

Fukase studied every detail of the drawing, transfixed. He absent-mindedly touched his face, tracing the drawing with his eyes. The left side of his face was scarred like his arm, and his eyes were mismatched. The right had a red pupil, but the left was almost completely red. Instead of a pupil, it contained a small cross-hair. His lips were dotted with stitches, and a red bandage sat on his nose. A small flag protruded from his head.

"Do I look… scary?" he finally asked, looking up from the paper.

Hio hesitated. "N-no—"

Fukase hung his head. "You don't need to lie. I understand."

"Fukase, I—"

He quickly looked down, hiding his face. His eyes burned slightly and felt wet. The two sat in silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say.

Suddenly, Fukase jumped up and grabbed his cane, and Hio leaned back in surprise. "You know what?" Fukase asked brightly. "If people are going to think I'm scary, I'll do what I can to fix it. No point in being all sad about it. If I'm imaginary, I'm gonna be the best imaginary friend ever!"

Hio grinned, standing up to meet him. "That's just what I was hoping to hear."

"And you know what else?" Fukase asked excitedly. "Being invisible is gonna make it super easy to play amazing pranks!"

"Wait, hold on—"

Fukase paused. "Thank you for telling me, Hio. I'll be sure to keep your secret," he winked.

Hio smiled. "Of course."

* * *

The boy stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him with a click. He adjusted his hat in a slightly crooked fashion and swung his cane with a quick flourish.

Oliver and Mayu were seated at the kitchen table, engrossed in homework. They looked up as he entered the room, grinning.

"Hello," he began, taking a deep bow. "I'd like to properly introduce myself. My name is Fukase."


End file.
